


First/Second

by luzial



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance, Short One Shot, Solavellan, who fell first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 05:55:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10182209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luzial/pseuds/luzial
Summary: I’ve been thinking aboutthis postall week, so I decided to write something about who in my OTP fell first, and who fell second.Four short scenes, two from Solas' POV and two from Lavellan's, at the start of their relationship.





	1. FIRST

The first time Solas felt it they were in the small village the humans called Haven.

The question he asked her was rhetorical. He’d intended to show the precariousness of his situation - and hers. Especially hers. This Inquisition may be his best chance of retrieving what he had lost, but it was far from his only option. He could leave, and he would leave. It was not a question of _if_ but _when_. It had long been clear to him that there was nothing for him here, and no tears need be shed for the merciful killing of a dying beast.

But her footing was less secure. The humans had elevated her to something … _more_. It was religious and mythological, military and political. They had made her a figurehead, a chosen of a god. And Solas knew - remembered - that gods and their followers had an insatiable hunger for sacrifice.

And so when he had asked, _How would you stop them?_ , he did not expect her to reply. She was a mere pawn in this game. And while it was regrettable that lives - hers included - would certainly be lost, the best he could do for her now was warn her away from the humans’ ambitions.

He had not expected her to reply.

He had certainly not expected her to tell him she would do whatever she had to in order to keep him safe.

He believed her. She issued her proclamation like a queen and a general who would accept nothing less than the total surrender of her foes. She spoke with the certainty of one who believed she could move mountains if she simply worked hard enough at it.

 _I wish it were so_ , Solas thought.

And then he wondered why it mattered to him.

 

* * *

 

The first time she felt it she was in the mountains, half dead from exhaustion, cold, and pain.

The snow no longer felt cold, but instead like a soft, feathered pillow beneath her cheek. She had been beaten and bruised when the avalanche hit, shaken about like a rabbit in a wolf’s jaws, yet still she dragged herself onward. She’d climbed and climbed, each step an impossible struggle as she wrenched her legs from snow that rose as high as her knees, her muscles aching with the stabbing pain of exhaustion.

She had tried to keep going. She was not from a place like this, where the wind bit at one’s face and the cold was a constant, if invisible, predator. But even accustomed as she was to the mild winters of the Free Marches, she knew what she must not do.

She must not lie down.

But she’d already done that. She’d sunk down to her knees when her tired legs faltered as she tried to step forward. And from there, it wasn’t such a difficult thing to let herself slide slowly into the snow - palms, arms, head.

 _Falon’Din_ , she thought. _Lead me to my rest._

But Falon’Din did not answer. The wolves did.

At first it was a single voice calling from somewhere far in the distance. Then more and more joined in the song, their voices echoing off the surrounding cliff faces until she was engulfed by their mournful chorus.

And then, for no reason at all, she thought of Solas. In her delirium, she could nearly see him standing over her, just as she could nearly see the green light of the mark shimmering through the layer of snow that rested upon her palm.

She saw his eyes most clearly, and was shocked by the honesty she found there. Solas was terrified, distraught. In pain. There was no hint in this face of the kindness and curiosity she’d come to appreciate, and nothing remained of those shy smiles she treasured each time she made him laugh.

 _I will see him smile again_ , she told herself.

So with a certainty she did not understand, she lifted her body from the snow with the last bit of strength in her trembling arms and she stood. She would not die cold and alone, and with none but wolves to sing her to sleep.


	2. SECOND

The second time Solas knew, and he was euphoric.

The humans believed they had seen her brought back to life again, and he could hardly disagree. He had been there, with the scouting party, when _she_ had found _them_. Her face was deathly pale, save for her cheeks burned red by the wind and snow. She could barely breathe, let alone walk, and he only just stopped himself from flying forward when he saw her, to catch her up in his own arms and bring her close, to guard her from all harm and soothe the hurts she had suffered.

 _Why_ , he thought, already knowing the answer.

Instead, Solas watched as she collapsed into the arms of one of the Inquisition’s soldiers, who carried her back to camp where she was placed under the care of the woman they called Mother Giselle. He longed to be the one tending to her, but had to be content to watch from a distance. His concern was for the mark, not for its bearer, he reminded himself. What mattered was the anchor. What mattered was his focus.

But - _oh!_ \- when she opened her eyes.

She looked all around the camp, bewildered - he imagined - by the numerous tents and fires nestled in this small valley. He saw her look from tent to tent and from face to face, searching - he wanted to believe - until, finally, her eyes found his. She exhaled quickly, her breath condensing in the night air, before the corners of her lips turned up slightly in a weak smile.

All at once, Solas felt his world shift. Though he knew he had been awake for more than a year now, he felt as if he had only just returned from a dream. The ancient tendrils that coiled about his limbs and whispered to him of duty and justice snapped in an instant, and he felt himself free and falling for the first time in ages. The immediacy of it was exhilarating and terrifying. He was adrift.

And _oh, fenedhis_ , there was so much he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to share with her. Was there a way, he wondered, to explain what he was? Would she believe him? Would she hate him? How much could he tell her and how quickly? She deserved to know it all and he couldn’t possibly consider … whatever it was that he was allowing himself to consider … without telling her the truth.

His thoughts overwhelmed him, rising in an urgent frenzy even as he watched the humans encircle her, sing for her, beatify her. She was no mere chosen now, but a god in her own right. It was all too familiar and happening all too quickly all over again.

“A word?” Solas requested, as he passed quickly behind her. He hardly knew where to start, except to know that he _must_. And as she followed him toward the cliff’s edge, he felt his careful mask slip and his forsaken heart soar.

 

* * *

 

The second time she knew, and it worried her.

She had kissed him impulsively. She hardly understood why, but there was something in the moment that felt as if she _should_. Solas had been so earnest and so unguarded as he spoke. His happiness was irresistible.

But she realized her error as soon as she drew close to him. His smile fled beneath her touch and she saw that he held his breath. Yet she had kissed him anyway, selfish and foolish as she was, letting herself believe for a moment that his reaction had been one of anticipation rather than uncertainty.

Just as suddenly she pulled away, her heart in her throat as she realized she must have misread him. She should have asked. He was so private - an unsurprising trait in a wanderer who had spent as much time alone as he had. Why had she assumed his meaning? Why had she shattered the fragile bridge they were still building between them?

But then Solas caught her about the waist, his grip firm and insistent. He turned her toward him with an unexpected urgency, pulling her hips against his until they were face to face once more.

And, _gods_ , in that moment she knew.

It was only a _moment_ of hesitation, but it was enough to read everything plainly on his face. Solas stared down at her in awe, as if he was seeing her for the very first time. Her breath caught in her chest as she watched him almost imperceptibly shake his head from side to side, his fingertips clinging tightly to the small of her back. She thought, at first, that he was saying no, or perhaps convincing himself to let go of his hold on her. But then she realized, as he leaned into her and she grasped at his forearms to keep herself upright, that it was something else entirely.

What sort of man loved as if it frightened him? As if he wanted to be broken down by it? As if offering his surrender?

It was a thought as tantalizing as it was troubling, and one that lingered in her mind as he kissed her again and again in the small village the humans had called Haven.


End file.
